Terry, The Teacher's Story
by Dru Freeman
Summary: A story from the Universe of Doctor Who with original characters. Theoretically canon to the end of the 3rd series of the new Doctor Who.


The Title is in flux.

This first chapter is more of a preface than a full chapter.

--

"Terry had no idea why he was in the Gas and Sip," he laughed to himself repeating the words. It was confusing enough that the small Korean man behind the counter had decided to call him Terry. Granted, the man with about forty-five facial variations on deadpan seemed to be calling everyone at the counter, 'Terry.' However, when this Terry wandered to the counter looking for something but not quite sure what... he was greeted with the rather alarming mutilation of the English Language.

He actually had an idea why he was in the Gas and Sip. After everything he had recently been thru and being run completely ragged, he needed a quick snack. So, it wasn't really so much the 'why' but more of the 'what.' It was unfortunate that nothing on the shelves had made the effort to forge a psychic link with his stomach and scream, "Buy Me!" He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and decided it was probably actually closer to fortunate that nothing had. That'd be strange - and as he thought about it a moment longer, complicated.

One thing had definitely not tried to form a psychic link with him. A rather nervous looking man with a chin that looked like it'd been not only sanded but that some of the sand paper had gotten stuck. The man hadn't seen the side of a razor (at least to his face) in the better part of two or three days. He wore a white t-shirt with a logo for some form of beer, a plaid unbuttoned-down shirt over it, and a baseball cap. His left cheek bulged a bit. It grunted and pushed past Terry obviously on its way to do something more important.

Another click of the tongue. Terry had picked up this amusing habit only recently. It was the kind of thing you did after recent dental work as you tried to find your way around your new tooth. Terry, wasn't very good at this new maneuver and accidently bit his tongue. It wasn't a deep bite, bt he could feel the slightly warm and metalic taste that would remind him, he had drawn blood. This also was a seemingly new habit to him.

Terry scratched his head and had to remind himself how he wound up in this area. The iThing he wore had chosen to blithely transition from seventies-progressive rock into Bach. He chuckled, reminded of the number of people who had told him how eclectic their taste in music was, and he wondered how they might react if they actually knew what other things were stored in it.

He let his fingers slide over a bag of miniature gummy bears. Displeasure crossed his eyes, stomach, and oddly the back of his neck all at once. The latter he couldn't quite place... but the idea of confection made him feel queasy. This surely wasn't what he had a taste for. He lifted his head and scanned across the store. For a split second Terry believed a container of chips on the rack next to him had said, "Open me."

There were the requisite maps, the annoying man with the sandpaper face, the korean shopkeeper with the thick accent, the young-adult, semi-professional out for a few groceries, the door with the tape measure along the side to help identify criminals. The sun was close to the horizon. Terry let the fact that he noticed this dance around in his mind. "Bittersweet," he thought. His thought was interrupted by three successive sounds - a scream, the sound of a gun, and a human body hitting the floor. Oddly the word "Bittersweet" repeated itself in his head.

The one thing Terry hadn't noticed was the girl. She couldn't have spent more than 25 years in the world. He noted that her eyes were almond shaped. He couldn't miss this fact because she'd fallen backwards and died staring at Terry. A small pool of blood was forming under her head. Her eyes carried something more as the life glazed away from them. If he closed his eyes he could imagine her saying something to him; maybe a poetic plea for help or revenge. Terry chose not to close his eyes.

"Anyone else wanna be a hero?" The voice wasn't male, gruff, or assuredly lacking in intelligence. The voice, however, was greatly under the delusion that it was a threat. There was a great deal of surprise as to which voice was attached to the weapon and the body of the perpetrator. Terry broke contact with his doomed staring match and looked up. Terry mentally cursed himself for missing the young professional as potentilly problematic. It had been far too long since Terry intentionally had gone looking for trouble. He was out of practice. It also utterly troubled Terry that a scene this horrible could occur in front of him and as a result only then his twisted mind could latch onto which aisle had exactly what he wanted for a snack. "Thank you!" Terry said with an almost exasperated cheerfulness. "Now I have my what to go along with my why." He turned to the shopkeeper who was now backed up to the cigarettes, condoms, and batteries behind the register, "Terry now knows why he is in the Gas and Sip," he added with a terse smile.

"I'm sorry, perhaps you missed my warning about heroes." He beckoned his gun to point down at the dead woman. "This one opted to not take me to heart, so I took it to hers. So why don't you, your long hair, and your stylish trench do us all a favour and just shut up and kiss the ground." Terry definitely had long hair which he liked keeping braided over one shoulder. He figured it made him stand out. Granted, as far as the man with the gun was concerned, Terry was just another freak in his way. He pointed the gun to the floor motioning Terry to get down.

"You really don't want to do that." Terry's voice was calm and warm. "Enough people have been hurt and you can still walk away from this." Terry took a step or two closer. All the years of training. Classes in psychology, social interaction, crisis control, yoga, and mental discipline, all came flowing back and switched on like a recording. He was trained what to say, how to move, but mainly, how not to get killed.

The man lifted his gun towards Terry's chest. "Back off. You take one more step..." The image of the girls eyes stayed in Terry's mind and he reflected them out of his into the eyes of the man staring back at him. Terry was in another place. He felt immortal. It was amazing to him what his body chemistry did for him in a crisis. "If you shoot me. I assure you it will be the last thing you do." Terry wasn't sure if he really wanted to find out if the man would put his threat to the test. He then realized he wasn't going to get the choice.

Time slowed down for Terry as the bullet entered his chest. He could feel the burning sensation drill through him in the blink of an eye. This would probably leave a mark. He looked at the man and grinned with a hint of joy through the grimace. "You really did not want to do that." His knees buckled and as he hit the ground he thought, "At one time, this would have been so much easier"

The man looked down and barked, "I hate her-..." He noticed the iThing fall out of his victim's hand. "At least I get to finish the day with a cheap souvenir." He got down on one knee, reached over, and discovered a hand around his throat. Terry was a lot stronger than he looked. By the time the man knew what had occurred, Terry had lifted him off the ground, hand under the man's neck, and pushed him out of the shop.

"You put him down! I call cop! No Vigilantee" The Korean called after them. "No, I see Renegade! You wait for cop! They take him. You no harm to him!" Terry had to turn a deaf ear. He knew that once they looked at the security tapes he'd need to be very far away. The moment that the situation had started, he knew that it was time to move on.

The man struggled but Terry had pushed him around the side of the building. the setting sun reflected off the front of the building and made it seem like the building was glowing. Around the side of the building was a small 6x6 gardening shed with paint peeled doors. Terry pinned the man against the left door of the shed while rummaging thru his pocket. "But i shot you!" His rather un-dead victim unlocked the shed door and opened it. "But I shot you. Right in the heart"

Terry opened the right door of the shed. "For the record," he commented matter-of-factly, "ignoring the assumption that the bullet would have done any good had you hit... You missed. You went between them." With an inhuman strength Terry lobbed the man a good thirty feet into the shed. The man flew through the impossibly huge room and landed onto the floor near a center column.

Terry followed him in and the door closed with a sentient hum. The room was mostly white with a faint peach tone reminiscent of coral. The man backed up to one of the walls in the cavernous room. "Shed?" A man who lived his life on hate, disgust and closed mindedness really didn't have a lot to question in life. Terry corrected him, "Tardis." Now the only questions that spilled out were pointless and ironically cliche, "Who... what are you?" The column began to oscillate.

"At one time this would have been so much easier. But I am not the man I used to be." He knelt down next to his killer. "After everything I've been through in the past 3 years..." The word bittersweet came to mind again. "I'm really not much of a man at all." Terry smiled. The point of his canines caught the light off the main console.

And the Time Lord who was no longer completely a Time Lord devoured his snack.


End file.
